


Brett and the Devil

by Jonah_Smith_907



Series: Brett and the Devil [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Beta Read, Panic Attacks, Wrote this to get ahold of my anxiety, angsty I think?, i dunno, it actually turned out alright
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 22:27:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13727277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jonah_Smith_907/pseuds/Jonah_Smith_907
Summary: Brett gets called to a courtyard where he finds four unconscious criminals and one unconscious Daredevil. Question is, what will happen when he is forced to take off the Devil's mask?





	Brett and the Devil

It was a shift like any other: sirens in the distance, crimes in dark alleys and emergency calls all night. Though it had been a few days since he had had his last encounter with the local vigilante. It wasn't exactly unusual, every now and then he'd disappear for a few nights, and then show up again with twenty criminals in two hours.

And although today was such a night, he still hadn't met the Devil face to face. There had only been a few slips of paper, nearly unreadable notes attached to the chests of at least five robbers, a rapist and one nearly-murderer. 

Until now. 

Today Brett was alone in his car, because after the whole Fisk-thing they were short on staff and his partner called in sick. Therefore he was even more cautious than usually when he got called to an abandoned courtyard. Apparently Daredevil had been kicking ass here. 

Brett drew his weapon and slowly walked in. The first thing he saw when he peaked around the corner, were four figures, all sprawled out on the dirty floor. At the second look there was a fifth person, a little further away. He was barely visible, his silhouette nearly fusing with the shadows.

He was dressed in red. 

“Holy shit.”, Brett muttered and carefully approached the man laying next to a dumpster. It was Daredevil. “Shit.”, he repeated. “You alive?”

He didn't get an answer. Which was a bad sign. All those times he had had an encounter with the vigilante, there had been some kind of answer, most of the times dramatic and a little quirky, but there had always been _something_.

Now there was nothing. 

“Come on, don't make me do this.” Brett squeezed the other man's shoulder and quickly shot a look at the rest of the men. They were still knocked out, two of them had their hands tied together with zip-ties. None of them moved. Neither did Daredevil. 

And now there were three possibilities left. Number one: Brett could call for backup and an ambulance, which would end with an arrested Daredevil. He wasn't sure if that was a good idea.

Number two: Brett could drag the vigilante out of sight, _then_ call for backup and Daredevil might end up dead. Which wasn't a pleasant thought either. 

Number three: Brett could call for backup and make up an excuse why he wouldn't be here to keep an eye on the unconscious criminals and then take care of the bloody _Devil of Hell's Kitchen_. By taking him somewhere safe. 

He ended up choosing number three. Kind of. 

“Alright, I don't know if you can hear me, but if you do: please don't punch me for this.” He nervously licked his lips and kneeled down next to Daredevil. He carefully rolled him onto his back and then removed the helmet. It was easier than he would have expected, the hard material smoothly slipping off the man's face. 

The other thing Brett never would have expected, was who was under that mask. “...oh you have to be kidding me!”, he huffed. “This is a joke.” 

It was Matt fucking Murdock. A blind man. No. No, not only a blind _man_ , but a blind _lawyer_! A fucking _lawyer_! A _blind_ one! How was that even possible?? Did Foggy know about this?? 

Oh god, what was he gonna do? Matt was still passed out, one of the other dudes already stirred and Brett _had to make a decision_! 

Well then, step one: secure the criminals. Easy, he only had to take some more zip-ties and attach the men to each other with them. He also made sure they had no weapons or sharp things to cut their cuffs. 

After that he had to get Matt somewhere safe. So far so good, but this vigilante-lawyer-dude was really bloody heavy! Brett didn't hesitate for long, hauled Matt over his shoulder and carried him into another alley, connected to the courtyard. It was narrow and dark and smelly, but not important right now. 

Brett had already turned to leave the man alone, before he thought better of it and tied him to a gate nearby. Then he returned to the other men and called central. 

Five minutes later and the place was stuffed with two more police cars, each of which took in two of the four by now conscious men. Of course there were questions, but Brett managed to get out of every single one of them, saying he didn't feel to well and he'd go home early. Luckily nobody wanted to investigate the surroundings any further.

Fifteen minutes after the call, the yard was empty and quiet. The only sound was the sirens, fading out into the distance and the traffic, a honk every now and then.

The detective let out a sigh and went back to where he had left Daredevil. Matt. 

Except he wasn't where he had been left. The lawyer was now leaning against a wall, the zip-ties were gone. He was holding his helmet in one hand, gripping it hard. 

“Detective.”, he greeted. He obviously made an effort to keep his voice calm and controlled, but Brett could see the fear in the way his whole body was tense. Matt had tilted his head a little, his free hand was clenched into a fist. “I believe we need to talk.”

“Sure as hell, we do!” Mahoney took a large step closer. Then he saw the way Matt flinched at that, so he made sure to make his next steps smaller. Less threatening. There was no need for reflexive punches or anything like that. “But not here. You were unconscious for quite some time.”

“I'm fine.”, came the immediate interruption. 

“I don't care. We're going to your place. Closer than mine and probably has a better first aid kit.”

“...fine.” Matt was in no shape to argue. Sure, he could keep up his facade, but it wasn't strong enough for a fight. “Fine.”, he repeated. “But I'm taking the roofs. Meet you there.” He didn't wait for an answer, climbed up the fire escape – with some difficulty – and vanished into the night. 

 

Shit. Shit shit _shit_! Of course Brett had to find him like that, defenceless and weak! Of course he had to find out! Matt was in so much trouble, he just wished he had slowed down a little tonight. It had just been too much, too many fights in one night. 

And now he was bleeding and Brett knew, and there was no air left in the world and – no, wait, what?? Where'd the air go??? What the hell was happening?! 

But oh, he certainly knew what this was. He'd experienced it before and this wasn't a good time. 

After what seemed like an eternity, Matt stumbled through the roof entrance of his apartment and stumbled to the couch. He was too worked up to notice the detective, who had found his way through the roof as well. 

The lawyer was also too worked up to care if he pulled some of his stitches from last night. He just had to get out of this goddamned suit, give his lungs some room to breathe. 

Brett watched for a few minutes, how the other man ripped his clothes off, until he was left in briefs, struggling for air. Though he was still somehow on his feet. 

“Are you alright?”, Brett eventually asked. He didn't get a sentence but a hard flinch as a response. Which was answer enough. “Okay, that's a no.” He stepped closer and guided the other man to sit on the couch. “Did you hurt you chest or something?” Between the heavy pants there was a weak shrug. “Alright, I'll check then. That okay?” It wasn't exactly a nod, but it was close enough. 

Brett took a close look at the other man's chest and wished he hadn't. There were bruises, old and new and a lot of scars, scattered over his torso in all shapes and lengths. It looked painful. And yet it wasn't any help right now, so he carefully placed his hands on Matt's chest to feel for anything weird. 

Everything felt normal. 

“Matt, you are fine. There's nothing broken or cracked.” That didn't seem to calm the lawer-by-day. And finally Brett realized what this was. A panic attack. Apparently a bad one. Why hadn't he noticed that earlier? “I need you to calm down, Matt.”, he firmly said. “You are having a panic attack and you are hyperventilating.”

It did not help. 

“You probably feel like you can't catch your breath. But that's because you forgot to exhale. So I need you to just sigh, okay? Can you do that?” Matt nodded. “Just sigh and then pause for a few seconds.” To his surprise, the other one actually did that. “Good, now what you wanna do is, you wanna slowly inhale through your nose.” Again his orders were followed, Matt listening closely. “And hold you breath again before you exhale through your mouth.”

They repeated the whole procedure a few times, before finally Matt relaxed completely. Then he looked up. “Sorry.”

“It's okay. I'm just wondering why that just happened?”

“Because … because you scared me.” God, it was hard to admit this. 

“I won't tell anyone, if that's what you think.”, the detective quickly said. “Promise.”

“You are a cop.” Matt suspiciously squinted. 

“And you're a lawyer. But I don't want to get you off the streets. Not any more, anyway.”

“Really?” He sounded afraid, but hopeful, like a child. “That's … nice. I guess.”

“Don't mention it. But listen, uh, does Foggy know about this?”

Matt winced. “Yes. He wasn't happy when he found out.”

“Alright. Well, good to know.” He cleared his voice. “Now, let's have a look at these wounds of yours.”

“It's nothing, I've had worse.”, Matt immediately cut him off. 

“You were unconscious.”

“I'll just set an alarm for every two hours and stay home tomorrow. You don't have to stay.”

“Yeah I know, but I want to. So, where's your first aid kit?”

He only answered after a few seconds of hard thinking. He figured this was probably for the best, because neither Claire, nor Foggy would have reason to scold him if somebody looked after him. “In the kitchen. Under the sink. Black box.”

 

It didn't take long until all of Matt's wounds were cared for and he took off into his bed. Brett spent the night on the couch, checking on the lawyer every two hours. 

It was a weird atmosphere in the little flat, but not an uncomfortable one. More … peaceful. Calm. 

Safe.


End file.
